


warmth to be treasured

by falterth



Category: Naruto
Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falterth/pseuds/falterth
Summary: Until he was five, Naruto grew up with Jiraiya-oji. They lived in a small house near his jiji’s clan lands. It had two bedrooms, one for Naruto and one for Jiraiya-oji. There was a study where Jiraiya-oji wrote his mission reports, there was a living room with a tiny television, and last but not least, there was a kitchen where Jiraiya-oji did all the cooking. Life was quiet, for the most part. The heavy blanket of peace was broken only by Naruto’s sharp, yapping laughter and sometimes, on special occasions, Jiraiya-oji’s deep rolling chuckles. Naruto liked to press his head against his oji’s chest when he laughed—if he concentrated hard enough he thought he could feel the rumble all the way down in his bones. Until he was five, his life went just like that.





	warmth to be treasured

**Author's Note:**

> a self-indulgent write of what could have happened if jiraiya had taken care of his godson like he damn should have. lighthearted, for the most part.

Growing up went like this:

Naruto’s mother and father died, Konoha was razed half to the ground, and Jiraiya was out on a mission. He received a letter, of course, courtesy of Konoha’s messenger hawks. He knew about the state of the village. He knew he was Naruto’s godfather and he felt the weight of responsibility weighing down on his shoulders. He would go back to Konoha as was his duty. Of course he would.

But for two and a half months Naruto was alone, tucked away in a corner of Sarutobi Hiruzen’s home, the room that would one day house Konohamaru. Hiruzen, of course, hadn’t taken care of a baby in years, but he tried as hard as he could to give Naruto the love he needed. It must have worked, and well at that, because every time he stepped into the room, he was greeted by a gurgling infant’s laughter, a fist waving in the air, waiting to catch his hand. Hiruzen’s littlest finger on his right hand was reserved for baby Naruto to grab at and play with.

Two and a half months passed quickly—or, at least, that was how Hiruzen saw it. To a man as old as him, a day went by in the blink of an eye; and so it felt as though he was able to take care of Naruto for only a few minutes before Jiraiya came home to whisk him away. Naruto was parted with and Hiruzen, the Sandaime, returned to his duties as Hokage. It was time to see what Danzō had done to his village while he’d been taking care of his late successor’s child.

Jiraiya, of course, being one of the legendary Sannin and a powerful spymaster, had never had any time to settle down with someone. It came to follow that he had no idea how to care for a child. Thus began a new chapter in Naruto’s life: Jiraiya-oji, who was almost afraid to touch Naruto for fear that he’d break the child, and Michiko-baa, an old maid, who fed and clothed and bathed her tiny charge day after day. Jiraiya learned the tricks of this complicated trade in no time and within months he slowly learned to move past the fear of being too rough with Naruto. Indeed, his hand was even gentler than Michiko-baa’s after just half a year of her coming to live with them.

Taking care of Naruto was busy work. Somewhat regretfully, Jiraiya made the decision to put his writing career on hold. After the success of  _ Tales of an Utterly Gutsy Shinobi, _ he’d been motivated to write more books of the sort. Maybe a sequel. He’d always been curious about writing things on the . . . the adult side, as one could put it, but all of that needed to be delayed, at least for now. Naruto was Jiraiya’s first priority now.

“Oji” was Naruto’s first word. Jiraiya prided himself on being a shinobi and to be a shinobi was to conceal one’s feelings, but even he couldn’t stop the tears that had leaked out of his eyes. After that, life was a storm of words. For a few weeks, all baby Naruto could say was “oji.” Slowly, surely, he branched out and his vocabulary grew ever more advanced. His second word, as to be expected, was “baa-chan.” Michiko and Jiraiya were fiercely proud of this little boy.

Eventually, after she was sure Jiraiya knew the ins and outs of caring for a child of all ages, Michiko-baa moved out and life returned to normal, or as normal as it could be. Jiraiya slowly started to become a veritable expert in the fine art of caretaking. The fridge had never been so stocked, and neither had the counters been so clean. And likewise, little baby Naruto, now nine months old and desperately eager to start crawling, had never been happier in his life. Of course, Jiraiya went on the occasional mission here or there to break the monotony. He loved Naruto and he loved home life and gods knew he wouldn’t run out of money any time soon, but Jiraiya was a shinobi born and bred and taking missions was in his blood.

It was around this time that Jiraiya started to introduce Naruto to his toads. Slowly, one by one so as not to overwhelm the child. But it seemed his worrying was for nothing. By the time he’d called the seventh toad down from Mount Myōboku, Naruto was already winded from his delighted laughter. From then on, while Jiraiya was away on missions, he called down a few toads to watch over his godson. It was a good deal. The toads were infatuated with Naruto and loved taking care of him, and Naruto felt very much the same way about them. In particular, Gamaden, one of Jiraiya’s quickest and smartest summons, became one of Naruto’s favorites. In fact, he practiced most diligently each day, working toward what seemed to be a goal of his: to say Gamaden’s name. It was at least a few weeks before he had the “Gama,” part down pat, and within a month, Gamaden’s name was learned. From there, it was simple enough for him to start repeating the names of the other toads.

Jiraiya started to leave on lengthier missions after he was sure the toads would take care of his godson. It was after one such mission that Jiraiya returned home to discover Naruto, who had been becoming more and more energetic by the day, standing in his crib. Once the shock of missing out on this wonderful milestone wore off, Jiraiya proceeded to lift his godson up and smother him with kisses, registering the faint sounds of Gamaden and Kōsuke de-summoning themselves in the background. Naruto had been standing. His godson, standing up! He hadn’t even begun his crawling phase! It seemed little Naruto was so determined to stand on his own two feet that he’d skipped all-fours entirely. Well, that was fine with Jiraiya.

Besides the odd mission or two, daily life was interrupted by occasional visits from Jiraiya’s old sensei. Sarutobi-sensei would come over, have tea and trade pleasant conversation, and then they would get down to business, which was just fancy-talk for playing with Naruto. Sarutobi-sensei was a master of drawing out smiles and laughter from the boy, and Naruto greeted the littlest finger on his right hand as he would an old friend. By now, Naruto knew Sarutobi-sensei by name. He was “jiji” now, a word that fell easily from Naruto’s mouth. Every other word he said was “jiji.” Jiraiya was amazed and envious in equal measures.

No matter. Life was good, after all, and Naruto even better. It was good to have someone he could call family again.

 

“What’s your favorite color, Naruto?”

“O-orange! Orange!”

Jiraiya ruffled Naruto’s hair. “Very good!”

He supposed orange wasn’t too bad of a color, as long as Naruto didn’t do something like dressing up in it wherever he went. Right now, Naruto was two and a half years old, so he could get away with it. He did get away with it, actually; over half of his wardrobe was orange. You’re smitten, Gamaden tells him often. Jiraiya thinks it’s true. Maybe if he had ever settled down and started a family, this was what it would look like. But Jiraiya had no time to waste reminiscing. After all, this was the present. He had never settled down and had never had children of his own. Taking care of Naruto had started out as a way to keep the memories of his Minato and Kushina close to him but now it was much more than that. 

“What’s your favorite fruit, Naruto?”

“Soft plum! Oji, oji,” Naruto gurgled happily. His speech was becoming clearer by the week. Jiraiya couldn’t possibly be any prouder than he already was. It was better this way, Jiraiya thought. Healthier.

 

Taking Naruto on walks around the village was always a bit of a gamble. Sometimes the streets would be emptier and Jiraiya was spared from the disgusted looks sent not at him but at Naruto. Other times, when he went grocery shopping and took Naruto along, he was not so lucky. Naruto was three years old now, just old enough to start to understand simple commands and sentences. He was talkative for his age. He never hesitated to tell Jiraiya when he was hungry or thirsty and he was definitely very vocal about wanting Jiraiya to summon his toads. Jiraiya was very proud of Naruto’s progress. He supposed it was lucky, though, that Naruto could not yet understand what civilians said around him.

“Why did you agree to take care of that demon child, Jiraiya-sama?”

That was a question he had heard too many times. He always answered it with silence; no matter what he told them, he knew nobody would ever be happy with any sort of explanation he could give. People were quick to hate, and although Jiraiya was no exception, having fallen victim to a prejudiced mindset before, he was trying to get better. He wanted to get better, for Naruto. This was a promise.

 

“Hey! Hey, Jiraiya-oji! You gonna train me today? I bet you’ve got some super awesome shinobi arts you’re gonna teach me!” Jiraiya had no need for alarm clocks, not when his godson woke him at seven o’clock sharp every day to pester him about training. Five-year-olds were quite the rambunctious bunch, Jiraiya was beginning to discover. “Come on, old man! You told me to wake you up!”

“All right, all right,” Jiraiya groaned into his pillow. He got up with greatly-exaggerated difficulty. By now, this was a familiar routine. Jiraiya half-rolled, half-stretched until he was in such a position that he could adjust Naruto’s position on his back. He hooked both hands under Naruto’s legs and the boy automatically wrapped his arms around Jiraiya’s shoulders, taking extra care not to touch his neck. “Piggyback to the kitchen?”

“To the kitchen!” cried Naruto, using his heels to gently spur Jiraiya on. Jiraiya made an impression of a horse—a good one, mind you—and galloped to their kitchen. Once there, he deposited Naruto into his special chair and took up his usual place near the fridge. He looked at Naruto expectantly. It was a hard choice, Naruto thought. On the one hand, Jiraiya-oji made the best rice balls in the whole world. On the other, oji-chan’s omelets were a thing of destiny. Naruto could eat them forever and still not be full. Although these two foods both paled in comparison to ramen, Naruto understood that ramen was not a breakfast food. He would have to wait until lunch or dinner for his favorite meal. “I want . . . no, I want . . . omelet! I want an omelet, Jiraiya-oji!”

“Omelet it is,” Jiraiya said, cracking the fridge open and taking quite a few eggs from it. Naruto’s appetite was not to be messed with, and neither was his own. He would have to go grocery shopping today. Cooking was a quick and easy process. Michiko-san had taught him much about household chores, from cooking to cleaning to doing the laundry, and every day he found himself more and more grateful to the old woman. “Here you go, nice and hot.”

He set a plate down for Naruto and a plate down for himself, both equipped with the proper utensils.

“Thanks a bunch, oji-chan!” Naruto exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Breakfast never failed to excite him. With a decisive nod, he went about tearing into his breakfast, which was terribly good and well worth the short wait. Jiraiya sat and watched him for a few moments. The speed at which Naruto ate would never cease to amaze him. Then, feeling his own stomach rumble, he dug into his own food. A large omelet on a foggy day was truly one of the best breakfasts one could have.

After the meal was eaten and the dishes were washed and put on the rack to dry, Jiraiya finally caved and agreed to train Naruto in the “fine shinobi arts,” or whatever his young godson called them. Jiraiya personally thought there was nothing fine about running laps and doing basic kata, but for Naruto, who had looked up to his wise old oji-chan ever since he could remember, even these simple exercises were seen as a huge step closer to becoming a legendary shinobi.

“Okay,” Jiraiya said when Naruto was finished running through his set of academy standard stretches. “Run five laps around the field and then I can start teaching you about chakra. Remember, no cutting corners!”

The punishment for cutting corners was Naruto’s worst fear: no ramen for two days. No other punishment seemed to work on him; he bounced back from everything else thrown at him. Threaten to take away his ramen, though, and he quickly worked to correct whatever mistake he had made. It was really an over-exaggeration on Naruto’s part. Ramen was his favorite food, yes, and this was a regular routine the two practiced—Jiraiya threatening to take away ramen, followed by a loud gasp from Naruto—but at the heart of it he hated to disappoint his godfather. There was no worse feeling in the world than the one Naruto got when Jiraiya-oji got that frowny look on his face. Of course, Naruto kept this a secret from his oji-chan. He knew that if he were to say this out loud, Jiraiya-oji would take the utmost care not to look like that in front of him. As guilty as it made him feel sometimes, it was a good motivator, and Naruto had realized this from the start.

Five laps around the small training field were run. Jiraiya watched with a careful eye but Naruto did not cut a single corner. This was good. Shortcuts, although they may seem convenient at the time, could only lead to a sloppy job. Jiraiya, as both someone who worked with seals and a spymaster, was especially adamant against not using shortcuts. In his profession, shortcuts led to certain death, and whatever kind of shinobi Naruto chose to be in the future, the lesson would hold strong. Even if Naruto decided not to enter the academy—which was looking less and less likely each day—he could not afford to take shortcuts.

“Naruto! Your laps are done. Come over here,” Jiraiya called out, motioning for Naruto to sit on the ground in front of him. “Good, good. I’ve told you a little about chakra before, right? Tell me what you can remember about it.”

“Ummm,” Naruto started. Oh, no. He was already forgetting everything his oji-chan had taught him! Quickly, he searched his brain for information. Luck must have been on his side today. A memory stood out to him suddenly, and he grabbed ahold of it before it could get away. “Oh! Chakra is ess—essen—really important to every shinobi because it’s what we use to make ninjutsu!” Try as he might, he couldn’t quite pronounce some of the bigger words Jiraiya-oji had used that day. He knew what they meant, sure—Jiraiya-oji had always been sure to explain when he didn’t understand things. Understanding what the words meant and speaking them aloud, however, were two completely different things.

“Very good, Naruto!” Jiraiya congratulated. He was pleasantly surprised by Naruto’s attempt to say essential. Usually, Naruto simply replaced the word with something easier to say. It just went to show how determined Naruto must have been to try sounding out a more advanced word. Try as he might, Jiraiya could not resist crouching down to gently ruffle his godson’s hair. “Now, there are many ways we can use chakra. One of these ways is tree-climbing. I’m sure they’ll teach you at the academy . . . ”

 

Tonight was one of those rare nights that Jiraiya allowed Naruto to stay up late. Oji-chan really was the best person in the whole wide world! He even went all the way to Ramen Ichiraku and bought a ton of food for Naruto.

“Feeling full yet?” Jiraiya-oji asked. It really was a wonder, he thought, how much Naruto could put away in that tiny little body of his. Of course, his metabolism might have had something to do with the Kyuubi. There were many things about Naruto that were not normal to most shinobi: his slitted pupils, his elongated canines, his unusually quick healing, and his odd yapping laughter. Jiraiya had been startled to hear it at first, but over time it had quickly grown on him. Naruto was a fox in both likeness and attitude, right down to his hair, which was a shade somewhere in between red and orange. Jiraiya knew what civilians said about him, although the civilians were completely unaware of this. They were so quick to accuse Naruto of actually being the demon fox, just because of his physical attributes. Jiraiya understood where the people were coming from. Almost everyone had lost someone in the attack. But it didn’t make him any less angry when he listened to the rumors. Jiraiya never once took out his frustration on any of them, though; no matter how sad or angry he got when he remembered the rumors, he always took great care to only let his frustrations out in the training ground.

Civilians thought Naruto was the demon fox. Jiraiya saw him as anything but. How could this child who was so full of joy and readiness to learn be anything but himself? How could this child, who already took after his father—Naruto did not know who he was, but Jiraiya planned to tell him some day—ever be likened to the beast that destroyed the village? How could this child, whose verbal tics resembled Kushina’s so much it had once brought tears to Jiraiya’s eyes, ever be anything but just Uzumaki Naruto? No, he was not the demon fox. But civilians would not be so easily convinced. After all, they never saw the side of Naruto Jiraiya got to see every single day. Civilians thought him to be some kind of monster, some kind of beast. Jiraiya, however, had the utmost faith that Naruto would prove them otherwise. It was really very hard to resist the child’s pull. It would just take time for people to see things the way Jiraiya saw them.

“Never!” Naruto yelled, raising the chopsticks to his face and taking another huge slurp of ramen. It was tonkotsu ramen with extra pork, his favorite in the whole wide world. Oji-chan always remembered to order extra pork, even though it cost a bit more money than regular tonkotsu. Naruto vowed to make up for the extra treat by trying extra hard to learn things. Like writing. For Naruto, writing was somewhat of a dreaded activity. No matter how much he practiced, he could never seem to get anything right! But Jiraiya-oji promised he would get better the more he tried, and Naruto believed him.

“Okay, okay. Just remember, even though you can stay up late, we have to go to bed at midnight,” Jiraiya reminded him. 

“Aw, come on,” Naruto whined. Naruto’s pouts were a fearsome thing. Even Jiraiya’s tremendous will was easily overcome in the face of that pout. But not this time. Jiraiya was slowly growing resistant to Naruto’s ways. Naruto, of course, knew this. He had been trying to think up a different tactic, but he had come up blank so far.

“Midnight,” Jiraiya repeated, throwing a stern expression into the mix. Naruto held his gaze for a few seconds and then slumped in on himself, turning dejectedly back to his half-finished bowl of ramen. It looked like Jiraiya-oji really was less and less affected these days.

“Fine, fine, you win.” Naruto paused to slurp up some ramen and to eat some more pork. “But next time we’ll go past midnight for sure, you know!”

 

Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. The last time Jiraiya was called to Sarutobi-sensei’s office, it was the start of his career as a spymaster, a two-year long trip away from Konoha, short, fleeting trips back to report information. During the later years, he hadn’t even stepped foot inside the village anymore; he’d used a toad summons to carry messages. Now, dread weighed heavily in his stomach. Was his teacher going to send him out, away from Naruto? Sarutobi-sensei looked at him from across the desk and took a deep breath. Jiraiya braced himself for the blow.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Jiraiya.” He really was. Hiruzen was not a fool; he knew the only thing holding back the ire and resentment of the civilians was his student’s presence by Naruto’s side at all times. The village as a whole respected Jiraiya and his accomplishments and they would not dare harm Naruto while he was under the man’s protection. Take Jiraiya away and the anger would boil over. Hiruzen would have to make sure Naruto stayed in his old house and was supervised by an ANBU guard. Already, he was making plans in his head.

“Please, sensei. Get to the point,” Jiraiya asked tiredly. At the very least he hoped he would have the time to spend a day or two with Naruto before he left. “Are you sending me out?”

“Yes,” Sarutobi-sensei said, rubbing at his face with one hand. “I’ve received some quite frankly disturbing reports about skirmishes in Tea Country. It seems a bounty-hunter’s been turning in head after head after head. The collateral damage from his kills is extraordinary. And he’s a missing-nin to boot. Jiraiya . . . he must be stopped. He’s cutting a clear path toward Fire Country, and as much as I’d like to see our missing-nin taken care of, I simply cannot let this happen. He has killed too many innocent civilians. And after that, I’ve heard rumors that a criminal organization called Akatsuki is on the rise. They are made of powerful, powerful missing-nin. You must investigate.”

It was a lot to take in. But Jiraiya was not a legendary Sannin for nothing. He was a shinobi of the Leaf, loyal to his village. This was a mission being given to him by the Hokage himself, and he would be quite the fool to deny it. There was foul play at hand, that was for sure.

“When do I leave?” Jiraiya asked. “How long will I be gone?”

“Tomorrow at five hundred hours. You will come back when you feel you have gathered substantial information on both the bounty hunter and this Akatsuki group,” Sarutobi-sensei answered. It was hard to make this decision but ultimately it had to be done. He could not let this threat to Konoha go undeterred, and Jiraiya had been all but off active-duty since he’d come back to take care of Naruto. Konoha missed its spymaster.

“ . . . I understand,” Jiraiya said after a lengthy pause. He stood up slowly and took care to push his chair back in after he had stepped away from the desk. “I expect my mission documents tomorrow. Thank you, Sarutobi-sensei.”

Hiruzen watched him leave and said nothing. Tonight was a night to be spent packing and saying goodbye.

 

Naruto’s oji-chan couldn’t be leaving. There must have been a mistake somewhere. These were the thoughts that ran through his head now as he clung to the front of Jiraiya-oji’s coat. There had been many an attempt to dislodge him, but it was futile. Whenever Jiraiya pried one of his hands off, it would just come back in a different place. So he gave up and wrapped his arms around the boy.

The tears that had been building up in Naruto’s eyes spilled over now. “You’re not really going, right?”

Jiraiya hated to do this to his beloved godson, but it was inevitable. Hokage’s orders. And he couldn’t bring Naruto along with him for the simple reason that the mission was much too dangerous. “I’m sorry, Naruto. I have to go. It’s an important mission assigned to me by your jiji. I promise I’ll send presents and souvenirs, and I’ll write often.” It was a weak promise but there was nothing else he could give the boy. 

Naruto was bawling onto his coat now, dripping snot and tears everywhere. Jiraiya would have to change it before he left. It was nearly four in the morning now, and although Jiraiya felt horrible for not telling Naruto the night before, he was so busy with packing that he hadn’t gotten the chance.

“Your jiji will take care of you,” Jiraiya tried to reassure him.

“But I want  _ you _ to take care of me! How am I gonna be a great ninja if my teacher ain’t even around to help me?” Naruto was absolutely devastated. He knew he couldn’t stop Jiraiya-oji from going but he would try his best until the moment he had to be left behind. “How long are you even going to be gone?”

There was silence. Naruto’s tears only intensified.

“I don’t know,” Jiraiya said at long last. “You know I can’t take any shortcuts on my missions. If I could, I would try to get it done in a heartbeat and come home. But I can’t. This is what being a shinobi means, Naruto. Even though it makes me really sad I have to go. I have to put my loyalty to Konoha first. This mission is to keep you and everyone here safe.”

Naruto sniffled loudly and buried his face even deeper in Jiraiya’s coat. He understood. Oh, he did. But understanding did not equal liking it or accepting it. He didn’t protest anymore. He came to a quick decision: he would be brave for his oji-chan. If his oji-chan had to go on a mission, Naruto would stay behind and take care of the house until he came back. And he would train his butt off and enter the academy so next time he saw Jiraiya he would be a few steps closer to being a great shinobi. “Okay,” he said, trying his best to stop the flow of tears. “But you better make good on that promise! Send me lots of souvenirs!”

Jiraiya laughed. To Naruto, it sounded suspiciously watery. “Okay, kid. I’ll do my best out there. And remember, your jiji’s going to come visit all the time too! He’ll take care of everything like grocery shopping for you, so don’t worry about any of that. Just stay out of trouble.” He paused for a second, scrambling for something to say. He didn’t want to set Naruto off again. “We have an hour left. Do you want to heat up some instant ramen for breakfast?”

It was a cheap distraction and Naruto, although he didn’t have the words to name such a thing, knew it. So did Jiraiya. But they both let it slide because anything was better than this. Anything was better than the sadness. “Yeah, oji-chan. You better have my favorite flavor in there!”

“Don’t worry. I bought a ton of it yesterday just in case Sarutobi-sensei wouldn’t let you have any,” Jiraiya reassured him. They both went into the kitchen and busied themselves with ramen. Jiraiya stepped out for a moment to change his snotty coat and when he came back there were two cups of ramen at both places on the table. He smiled at Naruto and tried not to let himself get too sad this early. He had all the time in the world to miss Naruto later. Now was a time to enjoy his company.

Naruto looked up at his oji-chan in an attempt to memorize every detail in his face. “You know, I wasn’t lying when I said I was gonna become a great shinobi like you. Just you wait!” The determination burned like fire in his chest. Naruto had a feeling this would be different than other promises he’d made. The eagerness to make Jiraiya-oji proud seemed to make his whole body vibrate with excitement, in spite of the sadness that was still lingering and would no doubt return after oji-chan left for good.

“Of course, Naruto. I know you will.”

Jiraiya picked up a pair of chopsticks, as did Naruto. They ate silently.


End file.
